Singing In The Rain
by Dragons-And-Merlin's-Beard
Summary: Singing is only a past time, so why the hell would Sherlock Holmes invest his precious time in a pitiful acapella group? A certain blond medical student might be the answer to that question.


Flyer after flyer was being shoved into new student, Sherlock Holmes' hand. Most of them he found himself grumpily crumpling up, proceeding to toss them into the closest bin outside. Mathletes, robotics, academic team, debate team, ah, and the the last - bright pink - flyer, acapella. He stared down at the ridiculous paper with disgust, which didn't seem to discourage the perky girl behind the table at all. She only beckoned him closer, throwing a pen on top of the table beside a sign-up sheet.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and folded the flyer hastily and stuffed it back into one of the outside pockets of his book bag, "I'm actually not interested in this at all. I would have thought that was obvious, but it seems you're running low on members and you're desperate - isn't that right?" He said in the snarky tone of his.

The girl sighed and shook his head in dismay, her curls bouncy around her still smiling face, "Now, now. I know this sort of thing sounds lame or whatever you newbies want to call it. But don't worry! Acapella is for everyone who has some rhythm." She assured, pushing the pen closer to him. "We compete and everything. Everyone likes some competition, don't they?"

Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest, close to telling off this desperate and persistent girl. "University is no time for singing on stage for some prize, it's a time for studying and figuring out where your future lies. I'm going to go ahead and assume your's doesn't lie towards being a famous singer." He growled, flicking the pen back towards the eager student.

This time the smile was gone and the woman was flushed with anger, "I didn't realize you could major in being an arsehole." She snapped, hurling the pen towards Sherlock, poorly missing. "Get out of here, _freak."_

Swelling with annoyance, Sherlock skirted away from the table, continuing down the long line of other groups advertising their operations. Pitiful, these things were. This wasn't the point of education, learning was. Why did there have to be more to it all? It was only going to make everything more difficult. He gripped on to the straps of his bag and hurried down the brick pack, gazing down at each individual brick that harbored a name of a graduate. How creative.

The Holmes' had set Sherlock up for boarding at the school, unfortunately with a roommate. However when he got his key and made his way up to his dorm, he found it to be completely empty. He had first pick, which was something. He picked the bed over towards the window, throwing his bag haphazardly on to the floor before collapsing on to the bed. The springs squeaked loudly beneath him and he emitted an annoyed groan. He'd be able to hear everyone in the building shagging if every bed was like this.

He stretched out and stayed there for a full hour thinking, before he was startled by the sound of the door swinging open rather forcefully. He turned his head and looked over at the door way with a frown, "Can I help you?" He asked.

It was another student. Another student who was most likely Sherlock's roommate. Dammit.

"This is my room." The other said, his face drawing up into a scowl, "And you took my bed."

Sherlock gritted his teeth and turned his head away, "I'm quite sure you didn't buy this, nor did you arrive here before I did - so I took nothing of yours. The other bed is perfectly fine and if you have a problem, I suggest you ask for a transfer. I'd be glad to help with that." He snarled.

"Let's not get off to a rough start. There's no other rooms available, and I'd rather not be forced out of here because my roommate wouldn't comply." The other huffed, hurling one of his suitcases right at Sherlock, hitting him right in the knee. The dark-haired boy let out a shout and knocked the offending suitcase to the ground before jumping up to his feet.

"Don't test my limits, pretty boy." The other spat, snatching his luggage from the ground, "I'm going out, and when I come back - you'd better be on the other bed, and my stuff better be put away for me." And with that he spun around and left - slamming the door on his way out.

Of course it was Sherlock's luck to get some arsehole with masculinity issues, constantly trying to prove his dominance. "Fuck me." He breathed, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. Maybe he should get out for a while too, see if he could pry at anyone's nerves before the day was up.

As soon as Sherlock stepped out of the C block of boys' dorm rooms he was colliding with a large crowd of buzzing, loud university students. It was even more busy than it had been a few hours ago - and he weighed his options before diving into the dense crowd of people.

Several people bumped into him, only a handful of them politely apologized before continuing on. It wasn't as if Sherlock cared about apologies any way. He was only focused, at the moment, on finding some place on campus that wasn't full of perky newcomers.

He weaved through the mounds of people, passing up the tables he'd gone past earlier. They were now entirely busy with people happy to sign up for whatever they could find - intent on making a difference with their unimportant lives. The certain acapella table was still there, less populated than other booths. Sherlock glanced over to see the same curly-haired woman bouncing around, clutching on to pink flyers.

He also spotted a certain arsehole roommate chatting the woman up, one hand pressed to the table and the other resting casually against his hip. Oh would there be nothing better to slaughter the chances for the both of them . . . "Hey! Freak!"

Sherlock's gaze snapped over to the face of the woman who's face had transformed into a nasty scowl. "Ah, yes. You again. Any luck with that little group with you, or are your chances still withering away?"

Sherlock's cursed roommate turned around to snarl at the boy, his hand clenching around one of the pink papers. "Who let you out here? I think you'd do better for he public if you were to stay inside - and unpack my things." He stepped in closer, his eyebrows drawing together threateningly. "How about you disappear and stop upsetting Sally?"

"Oh, great. So you got her name. That's something, though I'm not so sure she's going to drop her knickers for yo-," Without any surprise, Sherlock was shoved on to the bricks beneath him, his elbows skidding against the rough ground. He looked up at the other, his lips pressed tightly together, "Really mature." He hissed, trying to climb back on to his feet.

Mother had always pointed out to Sherlock - Mycroft had too - that he was one to often open his mouth at the most inopportune times, causing the mass amount of bullying he suffered from in his days in primary school and first through seventh year. So he was expecting the punch to his jaw that came next.

He tumbled back on to the ground, his face smacking against the bricks. There was laughter and small gasps spurting out from all around him. He mumbled a quiet 'ouch' before he felt warm hands wrapping around his upper arms, tugging him upward. Was he in for more pain?

He was met by the sight of tan skin, cyan eyes, a warm smile, and sun-bleached blond hair; all together - a gorgeous human being. "Hey, you okay?"

It wasn't one of Sherlock's proudest moments as he babbled incoherently, his tongue not cooperating. As the other man stared at him with concern Sherlock fumbled with his words until he managed something that resembled English, "I-I'm right. I'm . . . good. Yes."

"If you say so." The blond smiled softly, squeezing his shoulder lightly, "Let's get you away from these savages, hm?" He suggested, eyeing everyone angrily.

Sherlock could only nod as he was being guided through the thick crowd of people who had stopped to watch him suffer from a small beating. They ended up at a bright orange table with a few lime-green papers taped to the front of it. Advertising . . . oh _no. Acapella. _

"Alright?"

Sherlock blinked wearily at the other before nodding once more and straightening himself out, "I'm fine. I don't . . ." He shook his head, "I don't need help. I can find my way back to my dorm." He muttered.

"I think you ought to sit down for a bit so I don't worry about you passing out on your way back." The blond smiled, guiding Sherlock into one of the chairs behind the table. A younger mousy-looking girl sat in the other chair, looking rather dispassionate about her job at recruiting - but she perked as Sherlock slumped down beside her.

"Hello." She smiled, "John, is he joining?" Wow. She was just as desperate as that Sally, wasn't she?

John, apparently was his name, shook his head, "No - I mean. Hah. Unless he wants too." He shrugged, glancing at Sherlock before looking back at the girl, "He just got a bit of hit, so I want him to sit it out for a moment."

"Who hit him?" The girl asked, looking over at Sherlock with a disgustingly large amount of pity.

"Anderson." John muttered, rolling his eyes in annoyance, "Last year he took a hit on nearly every rugby paper - like he thought they weren't going to hit back." He laughed bitterly.

Sherlock kept a hand pressed against his jaw, rubbing tenderly at the bruised spot. "I'm, uh, not interested in _this. _I don't sing." He said, glancing between the two other students, "But, er, thanks - I guess - for retrieving me from the ground." He sighed, shakily rising to his feet. "But I think I've got this."

John glanced at him uncertainly but eventually nodded, holding his hand out towards the other boy, "Well, glad to help - um, terribly sorry, but what is your name?"

"Sherlock." He muttered before forcing his hand into the other's - trying to not let it linger before he spun around and disappeared into the crowd. No way was he going to stay around any longer - the more time people spent with him, the more they began to find a certain distaste for him.

He just needed to get back to his dorm and either comply to 'Anderson's' requests, or find someone who could place him in another room. Either way, university wasn't turning out to be much of any fun.


End file.
